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“Mila, you’re doing too much,” Yanni tells me softly as we sip a bottle on the porch of the bistro the next day. “You should go rest.”
“I’m happy to help.”
We sit in a comfortable silence before he turns inquisitive eyes to me. I sigh in resignation before he asks.
“Lucas has taken a role he’s heavily involved in. This is the only place I’m useful right now. I’m sorry if I’ve become bothersome.”
“Not at all, you’re more than welcome here.”
I didn’t know how to explain I was waiting on Lucas and I didn’t want to. The worst part is, in the past we’d always kept the lines of communication open, that was our saving grace. He doesn’t want my help, my worry. He’s made it crystal clear. I’m angry and resentful he’s taken that aspect away. He’s breaking our rules by the day, leaving me uncertain of our future, of my place in his life. I don’t want to discuss my marital problems with another outsider, so I finish my wine and leave him with a forced smile. On the drive home I realize Lucas has tossed me into the same place of uncertainty I was in after I left Egypt.
It had been nearly a week since he left to sleep on set. The longer he remains quiet, the more pissed off I become.
Speeding toward the studio, I decide I’ve had enough. He’s going to talk to me. Instead of joining him on set, I wait for him in his trailer. The silence has stretched long enough. Resentment has reached its peak, and by the time he walks in, I’m fuming.
When the door opens, I’m struck by how different he looks. He’s dressed in a blue suit, his eyes tinted brown by contacts, his demeanor ice-cold. Lifeless eyes sweep me, but he doesn’t pause a single second before climbing the steps to move past me where I sit at the breakfast bench. I’m stinging with indifference as he opens the fridge eyeing the contents and overlooking me as if I’m one of his staff.
I stand. “It’s time to come home.”
“Is it?” His nose twitches in annoyance as if he’s dealing with a petulant child. “Gee, Mom, I’m having so much fun. Can’t I play just a little longer?”
His voice is unrecognizable to me, and I damn near gasp at the difference.
I’m staring at the spitting image of Nikki Rayo.
“We need to talk.”
“Nah,” he says, sweeping me again with cold eyes. “We don’t.”
“You’re breaking rules.”
His slow-building and menacing grin brings on a wave of nausea.
“You’re making a mockery out of our marriage.”
“Whatsa’ matter, sweetheart? Still mad I’m not dicking you enough?”
“Jesus. You bastard.”
He grins again and I can see by the second that coming here was a mistake. “It’s been a long day, but if you’re offering,” he says, ripping off his jacket to reveal a vest underneath. In seconds he has me pinned to the table, his mouth close as he rubs his erection along my stomach.
“Just give me something,” I plea. “We don’t do it like this. I’m worried.”
“Shut your mouth and lift your skirt or we’re done talking.”
His eyes flare with amusement as my anger bubbles over. “Fuck you.”
His chuckle has the hairs rising on the back of my neck. “This what you came for?” I’m repulsed that I’m turned on by his crudeness, but I need something, some sort of connection. Resigned that this is as close as I’m going to get to my estranged husband, I give in and trust.
“You’re not my type,” I say, my words laced with venom. “Not even close. You’re just a dumb kid playing a big man with a gun.”
“You’re really starting to agitate me.” It’s unreal—the eyes, the voice the intimidation. This man is not my husband.
“Agitate is a big word for
you, isn’t it?” I say, grabbing my best weapon and hurling it at him.
With a fistful of hair in his hand, he pulls painfully. “Bitch,” he says, stealing all the breath from me, before slamming me against the table, not enough to hurt me but enough to try to scare me. I rip at his chest, his hands and fingers snatch away my panties before he rubs his engorged cock between my legs. Brown eyes flash down at me before he buries himself so deep, I scream out. He pumps furiously, eyes blazing as I rip at his hair and slap at his face and am rewarded with a sinister grin. I want him so badly, but I’m still reeling from the bite I asked for.
